


Love You So Much (It Makes Me Sick)

by caffeinechesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 18:08:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13529742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinechesters/pseuds/caffeinechesters
Summary: Dean has a resolution to keep when Sam leaves for Stanford.





	Love You So Much (It Makes Me Sick)

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Nirvana's "Aneurysm".

Sammy left. No, Sam left. He made sure to tell Dean that when Dean caught up to Sam walking down the side of the road. Dean managed to get Sam into the car and drive him to the bus stop. He should be proud of his little brother. He should be congratulating him. Instead, he’s silent. His stomach is churning and he feels sick. His brother is leaving him. His brother is getting to have that apple pie life he always wanted. He decides in that moment that he needs to let Sam go. If it was New Year’s Eve, he’d call it his resolution. He needs to let Sam go and have normal. He’ll never be normal with Dean around. He’ll never get the wife, 2.5 kids, and a dog with him bringing back memories of graveyard dirt, smoke, and backseat trysts with his own brother. Sam tries to get Dean to come to California; pleads with him about no one would have to know that they’re brothers. Dean kisses Sam one last time before going back to their father.

Dean is weak. He may never call Sam from his cell phone, but from a payphone when he’s drunk, it doesn’t count. He calls, listens to Sam’s voice before hanging up. Sam always calls back on his cellphone. He leaves messages sometimes, sometimes it’s just the din of a college dorm. It’s worse when Sam sends him text messages. Sometimes they’re pleading to just hear his voice or memories they share. Other times its accusations that Dean fucked him up; that he’ll never love anyone as much as Dean, that he’s ruined for anyone else. After those messages, Dean finds himself the next morning with a hangover and scratches down his back.

Dean breaks the silence, his resolution when Sam sends him an email with an attachment. He looks around the room, feeling guilty when he loads it. Anticipation builds as it takes it time loading because Dean is never really sure what goes on inside his brother’s head. A video pops open of Sam, well Sam’s body, with his stroking himself with one hand. Dean stays transfixed as he watches Sam spread open his legs wider, exposing himself, a little slip of wet pink as his fingers from his other hand trace around his hole. His mouth waters, jeans get tighter, and he feels like he’s receiving a revelation from his true Messiah, not the cheap knock-offs he’s been worshipping in the alleys.

“Dean, uh, Dean… Right there,” video Sam moans, “Harder…”

He should feel more guilty when he jacks off to the somewhat pixelated video. He doesn’t, especially when it’s the best orgasm he’s had since Sam left. He’ll call him later. He’ll need to get some liquid encouragement in his system to tell Sam everything.

A couple of shots in, Dean finally calls Sam. From his cell phone. When Sam answers so happy, Dean almost loses his will to break his brother's heart. Instead, he wants to beg forgiveness, but the only thing that he can manage at first is a broken, rough noise that sounds vaguely of “Hiya Sammy.”

Sam immediately launches into how much he misses Dean, about his classes, about how he actually has a real job working at the bookstore, and that solidifies it. He needs to break Sam’s heart. Dean is sure that he going to hell just for making Sam cycle between sobbing and screaming while Dean is telling him “that it’s for the better, Sammy. You’ll get your normal life. I’m doing this for you” After Sam hangs up on him, he drinks until blacks out.

The next morning, he wakes up hungover with a sense of urgency to run to the bathroom and puke up what feels like everything he drank last night. He rinses his mouth out, feeling more human. He showers, changes clothes, and finally looks at his cell phone. No new messages. “It’s for the better,” his mind repeats. He goes to the diner, eating a greasy breakfast when his cell phone rings. It’s John and it about a ghoul infestation out in Iowa. He tells him that he’ll be there in a few days. Before he leaves, he gets a new phone and tosses the old phone in the trunk next to the meager collection of photos.

“It’s better this way,” Dean tells himself shutting the trunk.


End file.
